Oblivion
by Isabella Raven
Summary: Postseason three Crais fic, AU. Crais is surviving, though one couldn't call it living, with brief bouts of lucidness and most of the time a blur of madness. He finds himself on a planet where most people don't go out after dark, and finds out exactly wh


Disclaimer: Crais isn't mine. The song lyrics aren't mine. 'Nuff said.

Author's Note: AU, and after the end of third season. Never let the muse listen to vampire music or near anything vaguely resembling an intoxicating drink. Well, anyway, read, review, let me know what you think.

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Sacrificial... Oblivion...  
Plaintive eyes... bloodless skies...  
Desperation... eternal price...  
Untold horrors corrupt the night...  
bloodless seeker's appetite...  
Wishing you to take my hand...  
in sacrificial oblivion...  
Wench, _Heart of Darkness_

The figures were indistinct, the pulse of the music beating against his skin as he sat in the back of the dimly lit club. They moved, twisting and writhing in an obscene mockery of dancing, or perhaps a mockery of mating. He had yet to figure out which it was from his observations, and he didn't care to join them and find out which they thought they were doing.

He took another sip of the drink in his cup, the sharp flavor of the drink washing over his tongue, and reminding him that he was indeed alive. Though, by all rights, he should have been dead. Dead along with Talyn, instead of finding these periods of lucidness when he wasn't sure where he was. Or how he got there.

A shadowy figure detached itself from the mass of bodies, drifting towards his table. He caught a glimpse of pale skin and dark leather, but nothing more before the person blocked what little light there was.

"Mind if I join you?" The voice was as shadowy as the figure, with a distinctly female timbre. It suggested things that he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Crais shrugged. He didn't care. He probably wouldn't remember this place, this moment very often anyway. What should he care that the woman chose to share it with him?

She slipped into the chair across from him, and he could feel her eyes scrutinizing him. He wondered how much she could see in the darkness that permeated the club. The darkness that made many of the natives and visitors wary of being out of their homes or hotels during the night. It should have rung alarm bells in his head, perhaps, but he dismissed it as irrelevant.

"You're new here, aren't you?" Her voice was soft, and her head tilted in the shadows, as if in question.

Crais nodded, and he had the distinct impression that the woman smiled. It would have sent a chill down the spine of any sane man, but he simply kept his gaze on where the woman's eyes should have been in the shadows. She chuckled, the rich sound falling flat on his ears.

"And no one has showed you around yet?" She reached out a hand to run her fingers through the tangles that snarled his black hair, an invitation he would have easily resisted before. "No one's showed you a good time?"

Again, he said nothing, simply letting the woman work her fingers into his hair. She clucked at the tangles in it, but it didn't appear to deter her. She leaned forward, her lips brushing over his. When he didn't respond, she pulled back, her head tilting again, a curious note entering her voice.

"Do you not enjoy the company of females?" She paused. "I can find you a companion that is…"

"No." He cut her off brusquely. "That is unnecessary."

She chuckled again. "Oh." She stood, slipping around the table, tugging him to his feet. "I don't think it's such a good thing for you to stay here. Who knows what lives in these shadows?"

He let her lead him from the club, not listening to the small voice in the back of his mind that was screaming for him to run, to get as far away from her and this planet as possible. Pale moonlight poured over the deserted street, gilding everything in its cold silver glow.

She took him far from the section of the city he vaguely recalled having been told was safe for visitors. Not that the club had been within that area, either. But it had been close.

Around him were ruined buildings that alternated with elegant homes and large warehouses. An odd sight in any city. He caught a brief glimpse of someone in the shadows, or something. Large, almost as large as a Scarren, but more canine than reptilian. It vanished again at a hiss from the woman, a hiss that sounded uncannily like a predator warning another off its prey.

They came to the gate of a small house that looked to be well kept, and she paused, turning to face him. He caught a better glimpse of her features now than he had in the club. High cheekbones that pressed sharply against her too-pale skin. Dark eyes that glittered with hunger or desire – which it was, his unbalanced mind couldn't tell. Or perhaps it was both. Hair that could have been any color from jet-black to an auburn brown tumbled around her shoulders, slightly curled, and looking wild.

"Welcome to my home, Bialar Crais." Her voice had a hissing note that he hadn't noted before, and her fingers around his wrist tightened to an almost painful grip. He hadn't told her his name. How had she known it?

"Come inside. Let me show you the hospitality most of the planet is sadly lacking." She tilted her head again, smiling, and he caught a brief hint of sharp teeth, pointed like those of a Scarren. He tried to pull away, his sense of self-preservation finally kicking in, but he found her grip was stronger than it looked.

"Oh, Bialar, Bialar." She shook her head. "Don't run away now. You don't know what you could find around here. It really isn't safe after dark. Especially on a night like tonight." She tilted her head up to look at the moon overhead, smiling, and showing off a mouthful of pointed teeth. "Full moon. A wonderful sight. For some of us, at least."

As if to emphasize her warning, an eerie howl came from the warren of streets she had led him through. He winced, knowing instinctively that to try and return through that meant certain death. She raised an eyebrow, and Crais followed her into the house.

It appeared to consist of one large room, scattered with discarded clothing and candle stubs that had melted to the floor. There were no windows at all, and in the dim light from some still-flickering candles, he thought he saw blood stains on the wooden floor.

The door shut behind him, and he heard a bar thud into place, standing silently and still where the woman had left him. He would not let her see the fear that was building inside.

"You're strong. Amazingly so." She slowly circled around to face him, her eyes glowing faintly green in the candles' sputtering light. "To have survived so much…" She trailed off, stepping closer, her fingers trailing over his features. "Strength is so fascinating to me. It can be so… delicious. So addicting." Her voice was a mere thread of sound, almost inaudible, even to his ears.

He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, the light fading as a candle guttered out. The gathering shadows almost looked like figures twisting in torment, and he almost swore he could hear faint, anguished screams. Male and female alike, but the masculine chorus was louder in his mind.

"You can hear them, can't you?" Her lips were brushing his ear, her voice holding a trace of something that sounded almost like awe. Or perhaps he was mistaking twisted amusement for a less dangerous emotion. "The screams of the damned. Such sweet music." Her teeth grazed the skin below his ear, and he felt a visceral jolt go through him.

He opened his mouth to reply, and only a gasp came out as her teeth pierced his skin, burning like a hot knife sliding into his flesh. Fingernails suddenly felt like claws as they dug into his shoulders, refusing to let him pull away from her attack. He felt his hold on the lucid spell begin to slip, a haze of unnamed emotions rising between him and the reality of what was happening.

Almost as if a detached passenger in his own mind, he watched his hands come up to grip her shoulders, pulling her roughly away, ignoring her hiss of anger at the interruption of her meal. Her eyes met his, and the anger faded into intrigue and amusement. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her skin brushing the still bleeding wound.

"What now, my pretty Sebacian?" She raised an eyebrow, licking her lips clean of the blood that still stained them. He growled at her words, one hand coming up to seize her by the throat.

"Don't call me pretty," he snarled, pushing her backwards, stalking her until her back was against a wall. He used the other hand to rip the supple leather top she wore away from her body, a seam shredding with a sound like flesh being torn. Her skin was paler than the moonlight outside, the bloodless color of a corpse, not even the tracery of veins visible beneath.

Her eyes flared with annoyance, and she reached up to pull his hand away from his throat with a strength he'd not seen matched by anyone else. Except the half-breed. The thought of comparing her physical strength to Scorpius was dismissed as soon as it came, though. She was stronger than anyone he knew in his grief-crazed mind.

"I rather liked that top. You'll have to be very good to make up for that." She reached out, his black tank top shredding beneath her long nails. One cold hand was placed over his heart. "How strong are you, Bialar?" she whispered. "Strong enough to survive?"

He made no verbal reply, his body already having made up its mind. He pulled roughly at the form-hugging leather pants she wore, the zipper parting much like the seam of her top, the leather fighting his efforts. She made no move to assist him, her fingers catching the trickle of blood from the wound she'd inflicted earlier, licking them clean with a hungry smile. She wanted more, and if given the opening, she would take more.

His own trousers were far more cooperative, and he shoved her against the wall, pushing his way inside her. She was as cold inside as she was out, and he felt her dig her teeth into his flesh again as he thrust, the feeling of having his life drawn from him clouding his mind further until he lost all touch with reality.

In his mind, he saw himself back aboard Talyn, saw a familiar face in front of him as he pinned her against the bulkhead. She smiled, pulling him closer, her legs wrapping around his hips as he pushed them both closer to the edge of sweet oblivion. A soft cry, her fingers digging into the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulders, warned him she was near her climax, and he pushed deeper, harder, his brown eyes meeting her grey as she went over the edge.

He followed her moments later, his head resting against the bulkhead behind her as he caught his breath. He frowned as the light faded, blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. "Talyn?" There was no response, and he tried to reach out with his mind to touch that of his ship, only to meet a cold darkness that brought him back to the world of reality with a brutal shake before his knees buckled.

A tortured moan escaped his throat before blackness rose up once more, and he collapsed, senseless to the world around him.

FIN

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Author's note 2: And if you want to sequel, you have to request it. Which means reviewing. points to purple button to the lower left of the screen Press the button, leave me a review. If I get enough requests for a sequel (at least 5), I'll post one. 


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